If Ever By Chance
by AmethystDragons
Summary: Usually Sinbad woke up on the floor under better circumstances. This is definitely one for the books, though, and he'll pay his debts. AU, naga!Ja'far, first meetings.


"I'm sorry, but you can't sleep much longer. Get up."

Clawing his way through the fogginess swirling in his brain and on the tip of his tongue, Sinbad grumbled deep in his throat. Opening his eyes was a feat worthy of a legend but somehow he managed, and after a few blinks the low-cast, dark grain of the ceiling swam into view. The silence was somehow a shock and he swallowed painfully, fanning out his hand to brush against the dusty, chill stone of the floor. What had he been doing, that he ended up here? He let his neck muscles relax and panned his head to the left, taking in only battered crates and barrels and a single dimming candle.

"There's a bowl of water on your left, if you're thirsty. Careful not to tip it over - it's the only thing I could find to suffice," murmured a soft voice behind him.

Sinbad stilled, then rolled to the other side. Whoever it was, if they were bidding him to drink they could probably wait a minute before anything else. Sure enough, right by his hand was a plain, poorly-thrown clay bowl - that it was serviceable was probably the best thing that could be said about it, although the sensation of cool water running down his throat put it up there with the nectar of the gods. He sat up fully, roughly wiping the back of his mouth with his hand as he brought his gaze up.

Calm gray eyes met his. Sinbad sized up their owner: pale skin, white hair, smatters of freckles across the bridge of his nose, shoulders and head covered by a wrap of deep green fabric. That was all he could see, for the other was braced with arms resting on a crate, obscuring the rest of his body. Sinbad turned to meet him fully and spoke for the first time, wincing at the abrasive quality of his sore throat. "It seems I owe you."

"Hm." His watcher linked his hands over the crate, eyes never leaving Sin. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Um. It's... coming back." And it was, at least in parts. Running... shouts from behind him. He was being pursued, but by who...?

...Slavers.

"I remember being chased, but not how I got here," SInbad admitted, rubbing his arms. "I assume you are responsible for that?"

"... Yes." A sigh. "You... stumbled past here, and collapsed. It looked like you had been hit by a slow-acting soporific... That's why those bandages are there," (Sinbad had finally dropped his hand to his stomach and felt the wrappings there), "So try not to aggravate them much. I was hiding in here, but I drug you in before your pursuers caught up."

Hiding? Was he a fugitive, as well? Or just a traveler without a home? He certainly didn't seem or look like a native. Sinbad felt his voice soften slightly. "There aren't many who would help a nameless escapee."

"I have no love of slavers." The rebuttal was quiet but sharp. "I've had problems enough with them myself."

"Nonetheless... Thank you. You've done me a service."

A nod met his proffered thanks. "You might not be thanking me for long, however. I only bought you time, not thrown them off completely. It would not surprise me if they found this place in a few hours; before the end of the night, certainly."

"That's time enough." Sinbad stood, groaning slightly as tired muscles spasmed in protest. He patted his side, feeling for his knife sheath, then cast his attention back. "Do you want to come with?"

A strange flicker of emotion crossed the man's face. Then: "No, that... if you wish to escape in total, that would not be wise."

Sinbad had crossed the room to peer out of the nearest slatted window, but at that he turned back. "Why not?" The only light he caught outside was the flickering of nearby torches. "You don't seem to be in the best of situations either."

"It's... complicated."

A single raised eyebrow was the only response Sinbad gave.

"Don't look at me like that." Unless he was much mistaken in the dim light filtering through the room, the other was blushing - and certainly he looked uncomfortable. "If you must know, I'd never outrun them on my own."

"You don't look like you're easily fooled," ventured Sinbad, taking a few paces closer.

The man seemed to withdraw slightly. "Thank you, I suppose, but I... meant that literally."

"You can't walk?" Sinbad queried quietly, furrowing his brow. But if that was so, how had the other drug him inside? He wasn't exactly a lightweight, after all - but the other just waved his hand.

"You should go quickly," he said, overriding what Sinbad had been about to say. "Down to the docks - I'm guessing that was where you were heading, and that's honestly your best bet. Get downriver far enough and you'll be in the clear. I can provide a distraction -"

"Hold on, hang up!" Sinbad held his hands up, fingers splayed wide. "I'm not gonna just _leave_ you here, not after you saved me - and I'm especially not going to let you be a decoy for the safety of someone you never met. I'll carry you if I have to -"

"No," came the quiet refusal, "You could not, and if I am to be captured I want to do something worthwhile with the minutes I have."

"To _hell with that_ , " Sinbad snarled, covering up the last few feet to slam his hands down on the boxes separating them - but when the man reared back and Sin looked down, the fiery thoughts streaming through his mind were derailed by surprise and replaced with quiet gaping.

For where legs should have been were scaly silver coils, emerging from underneath the bottom of the man's torso. The other retreated against the wall, eyes wide with surprise (and what could have been fear, although that was a painful thought ), hands drawing up to his chest.

They stared at each other for several heavy heartbeats before Sinbad found his voice again. "You... you're a naga?" He voiced quietly, hesitant, tasting this new word. He'd heard of such creatures before, but - "I didn't think they were real - um, sorry, that's probably rude, not saying _you_ are fake..."

"No, you... are correct," the naga finally said faintly, hands still tucked tight against his chest, grasping the fabric over his heart. "My kind usually doesn't... venture far out of our homeland. Few people know more than just sailor's stories and old rumors."

There's a story there, and while part of Sinbad ached to hear it this really wasn't the time. But... he took a step closer. Those powerful serpent coils were studded along the top with black splotches, mirroring the freckles dusting the other's cheekbones, and this close Sin thought he could see a small red jewel hanging on the naga's brow, hidden under his bangs. "... My offer still stands."

The other gapes at him, then presses delicate fingers to his forehead. The sight makes Sinbad's heart ache with a strange sense of déjà vu. "You are _not_ carrying a naga through the city. You can't run with me. Not to mention - you don't even know my name."

"Sinbad," he immediately replies. "But Sin works, too."

"...Ja'far."

"Well, then," Sinbad clapped his hands together, "Now we know each other a little better, so yes, I am carrying you out of the city."

"You -" The naga rears up, coils bunching. Even at his full height he only just makes it to Sinbad's chest (which he shouldn't be thinking is _adorable_ but he totally does), but that doesn't prevent him from pointing a finger at Sinbad and informing him in concise detail about how foolish of a plan this is, about how troublesome of a human Sinbad was and how maybe he should have left him laying out there, to leave him alone, to just go before he wastes the time given. Sinbad nods dutifully along at all the right moments, fighting to keep a straight face, and by the end of the tirade when Ja'far actually has a hand against Sinbad's arm for support Sin finally reaches over to place both hands over thin shoulders.

"It's fine." Frustration simmers there in grey eyes, and Sinbad amends, "I can't let a debt like that go to waste. And I want to hear your story, so if I save _both_ of us I figure that debt is paid. So please," and here he summons his most puppy-dog-eyed, honest face - " _Please_ , let me help."

Ja'far stares at him, then seems to deflate in a sigh. "Fine, but if your fool antics get us killed I will curse you in the next life." He retreats a foot, crossing his arms. "So how do you propose to do this?"

"Easy." Sinbad marks where the door is and loosens his knife in its sheath, then holds his arms out to his new-found companion. "Is there a way you would prefer that I pick you up?"

Ja'far slithers closer to him, unknotting his body from the tight coils he had been resting in. "Just... grab the main section of my body under my torso. I'll try to curl around you - " He hissed quietly as Sinbad reaches down and hefts him up; he's heavier than Sin was expecting, but nothing he can't handle as long they aren't on a hour-long hunt. "Here, I'll..." Hands brace against Sinbad's chest as the naga shifts up, coils curling around his torso and over his shoulders for support. Loosely put, it feels a bit like a hug, if a little tight. Finally Ja'far wraps one arm carefully across Sin's shoulders, looking a bit put-out. "Let me know if I squeeze you too much," he murmurs by Sinbad's ear. "I'll watch over your shoulder, just in case. It's a good thing it's late and dark; the pub crawlers should have some interesting stories in the morning..."

Sinbad cheerfully ignored the mumbled complaints, adjusting the weight in his arms as he maneuvered to the door. "Don't worry," he said, trying to be reassuring and probably failing for the grin twisting his lips. "It'll be fun, right?"

"I'm sure." Ja'far sighs; his breath ruffles Sinbad's bangs. "And it definitely won't be boring."


End file.
